


A Qunari and a Warden walk into a bar...

by ScentedStrangerCreation



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 21:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22004743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScentedStrangerCreation/pseuds/ScentedStrangerCreation
Summary: Sten visits the Warden at Skyhold, and Bull wonders if he is hallucinating (AU)
Relationships: Cousland/Sten, Sten/Female Warden, Sten/Warden
Comments: 7
Kudos: 92





	A Qunari and a Warden walk into a bar...

It had been a busy week at Skyhold. Preparing for the arrival of a Qunari ship had proved an intensive task. But as expected, Josephine seemed to anticipate every last detail. A partnership with the Qunari was an almost unheard opportunity, and everyone was determined to make the talks as successful as possible.

Bull, on the other hand, couldn’t wait for them to leave. It had been years since he’d been around his people, and he was ashamed to admit he wasn’t quite sure how to act. He knew his duty was to the Qun, and everything that may entail when the day came, but that day wasn’t here yet. Who knows, he may not even be alive to see it. He hoped he wasn’t at least.

After helping with introductions, he quickly retreated to the Herald’s Rest. The Inquisitor could handle herself for now, and he needed a drink. As usual, the tavern was warm and humming with activity. He spotted Warden Cousland sitting alone at the end of a long, wooden table; fiddling with the edges of a neatly wrapped box.

Bull eyed her curiously between swigs of ale. She was waiting for someone.

The Warden had only been with the inquisition for a few weeks. He liked her. At least he liked what he knew about her. She was warm and charismatic in a way that immediately put you at ease, and she knew it. No one seemed to notice between the songs and stories that she never actually revealed anything about herself. Sure everyone knew the tale of the Hero of Fereldan, but who knew Elissa Cousland? Who was the ex-noble, the orphaned Grey Warden who stopped the Blight and lived to tell the tale?

Now, here she sat alone in a tavern full of people, looking more nervous than Bull had yet seen her. He picked up his drink and made his way over.

“Waiting for someone?” Bull slid onto the wooden stool across the table.

A smile briefly softened her face, “An old friend.”

She looked clean. Her hair was brushed loose from its normal braids, and she smelled like incense and spice. Waiting for a _friend_ indeed. He was finally going to learn something about this woman.

“Can I get you a drink while you wait?”

“I think I owe you enough coin as it is.” She grinned, resting her chin against her palm.

She hadn’t won a single Wicked Grace game since arriving at Skyhold. Bull was almost certain this was intentional. She was studying all of them, collecting and cataloguing every move. He might have thought her a Ben-hassrath if he didn’t know any better.

“This one’s on me.” He offered.

“No really, I’m—,” she trailed off as her gaze moved past him. Her eyes grew round and earnest, “Sten!” she called out, standing from her chair.

Sten? Bull furrowed his brow in confusion, turning to look over his shoulder where the Arishok stood tall and broad in the doorway. 

Later, when Bull told Dorian about his night, he wouldn’t admit how long it had taken him to connect the dots between the Warden and the Arishok. He knew the Arishok had travelled with the Warden during the Blight, but he never considered their relationship to be anything more than a temporary alliance, certainly not friends.

The imposing Qunari looked out of place in the busy tavern, and Bull wondered if he looked the same to others. Either way, the Warden didn’t seem to notice or care. She practically bounced around the table, throwing her arms around the towering figure.

Bull didn’t know what he was expecting, but it was certainly not for a small, brief smile to curl at the edge of the Arishok’s mouth.

Elissa took a step back, gazing up at him. They were so close. Bull glanced between them, too distracted to read their lips. He felt the gears turning aimlessly in his head, but for some reason they weren’t clicking into place.

The Warden turned from the Arishok, beckoning him to the table where Bull sat, still confused. He realized he hadn’t swallowed the ale in his mouth, when she addressed him.

“Have you met—,” She began, but Bull interrupted, finally swallowing and standing respectfully.

“Shanedan, Arishok.” Bulled bowed his head slightly.

The Arishok regarded him silently before nodding his head once, “Hissrad.”

Bull flinched internally at the title. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had used it, and it was jarring to hear so far from home.

“I brought you something,” The Warden reached for the wrapped box on the table and offered it to the Arishok.

Bull took the opportunity to sit back down and observe, quietly sipping on his ale.

The packaged looked small in the Quanri’s hands. He lifted the lid and released a small chuckle— _a chuckle_ —before lowering the box just enough to reveal golden cookies inside. If that wasn’t a shock enough, his next words were.

“Thank you, kadan.”

Bull choked on his drink, coughing and spilling ale before he could control himself. _Laughing, cookies, **kadan**_. Bull couldn’t think straight.

“Sorry, I—,” Bull apologized, attempting to regain composure between sputtering coughs. But he needn’t worry, neither the Warden nor the Arishok were paying him any mind. They were standing close again. So close that for one, alarming and confusing moment, Bull thought they might kiss. Instead, the Warden stepped away.

“How was the journey?” 

“Long.” The Arishok answered simply, his hand wandering curiously to one of her loose strands, “your hair, it’s different.”

“I grew it out.”

“Impractical.” He said, allowing a piece to slowly slide from his fingers.

“You don’t like it?” she grinned, raising a brow.

“I did not say that.”

Bull looked around for someone, anyone else to notice what was happening, but no one else in the busy tavern seemed to care. He looked down at his drink, briefly wondering if he was hallucinating.

“Is the dog here?”

“Bear?” she asked, “he’s around here somewhere. I’m surprised he hasn’t found you yet.”

“Indeed,” the Arishok looked around expectantly, “he’s getting careless.”

“He’s getting old, Sten.” She laughed, “He’s probably upset you haven’t come to visit sooner.”

“Hm.”

“He’s not the only one upset, you know.” She raised her chin, “your last letter was…brief.”

“Letters are a poor substitute to conversation.”

“And neither is a poor substitute to both.” She crossed her arms.

“I am here now,” he said, setting the box down on a table and stepping closer again.

“And? Do you have something to say?”

“Nothing that you would wish me to say in a crowded tavern.” Bull wondered if he imagined the change in the Arishok’s tone.

Elissa released a quick, surprised laugh, “Then I suppose we should find somewhere more private.”

“As you wish, kadan.” 

The Warden turned back to Bull, trying and failing to conceal the flush rising up her neck, “thanks for the company, Bull.”

She waved, but he could only nod dumbly, absently raising his mug in her direction.

Without another word, the Warden took the Qunari’s willing hand, leading him from the tavern and out into the night.

Bull wasn’t sure how much longer he sat in silence, but it must have been a while. He finally stood up and walked over to the abandoned gift. He poked it distrustfully as though it might twist into smoke, but it was real.

“You, uh—, you okay, Chief?” Krem appeared beside him, “you look like—,”

“Like I just watched the Arishok, leader of my people, skip off holding hands with the Hero of Fereldan?”

“Uh, sure…” Krem scratched the back of his neck, “I guess?”

Bull swallowed the remainder of his drink, “you got anything stronger than this?” he held up his empty cup.

“As a matter of fact—,” Krem pulled a metal flask from his waist, “from that temple last week. Not sure what it is, but it’ll knock ya on your ass, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

Bull swiped the flask, and took a deep swig, “I need to find a very large stick.”

With that he walked away.

“Well that was rude.” Krem said, watching Bull walk away. He glanced down and spotted the forgotten box on the table, "What do we have here?" 

Krem returned to the Chargers, a box of cookies in-hand. 


End file.
